


Auribus Teneo Lupum

by Justalittleobsessed



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e01-02 The Darkest Hour, F/M, Fix-It, Lance doens't die, M/M, This is an AU, also Merthur so yeah, no, that made me too sad, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22389829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justalittleobsessed/pseuds/Justalittleobsessed
Summary: Morgana had unleashed something onto this world that had shaken Merlin to his core. Something cold and dark and not at all right. It swirled and settled inside of him, mocking his magic.No matter what happened in the next few days, Merlin knew that nothing would ever be the same.
Relationships: Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65





	Auribus Teneo Lupum

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm back! I know it's been forever since I posted, I've been really sick for the past month and haven't been able to work on any of my stories. I'm almost done with a few others, so look out for them in the next few days! Hope you enjoy this one! :)

Merlin ran through the courtyard, dodging around the bustling servants and squeezing through a patrol of knights, a few of them laughing at his frantic state, before continuing on. He ran up the stairs and into the citadel, praying to god that he wasn’t late  _ again _ because he  _ overslept _ again. He bet the clotpole wouldn’t even say anything when he showed up with the speech he spent  _ all damn night on _ . 

Merlin was  _ sure _ he would dismiss it even though that’s all he had heard about for the past few days. If he had to hear Arthur complain one more time about writing the speech for the feast tonight, Merlin was going to kill the prat slowly and very, very, painfully. It wasn’t  _ like _ it was in the King’s duties to write speeches or anything. 

Merlin was positive he didn’t have enough sleep to deal with Arthur. 

But, what did he care about sleep. Sleep? Sleep who? Merlin didn’t know anyone here called sleep. That must be for people who don’t serve the most iditotic, cabbage headed, King of Prats.

He huffed as he raced up through the castle-dodging under the garlands that Jon and Alise were putting up, a quick “Sorry!” as he continued up the stairs, listening as the two servants laughed at him from behind. A smile quickly graced his lips as he took a sharp right-bolting past other servants as they decorated for the Samhain feast tonight.

Running through the halls as fast as he could, he made it to the kitchen in no time, although he cheeks were warm and he was a little out of breath. He dodged out of the way of the cooks-or, well, tried to. By trying to, Merlin succeed in bumping into and knocking over almost two full platters of food, although he did grab a sweet roll from the second.

They  _ were _ very delicious and he could maybe spite Arthur  _ just _ a little bit. Also maybe it was for the time the cook gave him the most disgusting broth imaginable because he had eaten some food from her earlier that day. He could still taste it in his mouth.

“Hey! What are you doing in my kitchen?” Merlin quickly hid the sweet behind his back and decided not to comment about how he was being threatened by a kitchen utensil. 

Instead he slid around her, still a little scared of Mary and her ladle.“Uh...the prince’s shirt!” She huffed and walked away, although she kept eyeing Merlin as he weaved his way over to where Arthur’s shirt was hanging.

“Keep your dirty fingers off my food. Do you understand?”

In retaliation, he took another bite of his roll.

He picked up the shirt from where it sat above the steam and went to move away-determined to not be late (although he was pretty sure he already was). In the corner of his eye he saw something drop down, and peering back at it, found a quite big hook hanging over the food.

He peered up, and through the grates saw Gwaine and Percival, peering down at him-Gwaine putting his finger to his mouth in a silent ‘be quiet’ gesture. He laughed at them before peering over a Mary, who seemed preoccupied at the moment. Attaching the hook to a large chicken breast, he tugged on the rope and swirled his finger quickly, mouthing “go, go” before they were busted.

The shout of surprise from Mary that could be heard as he ran out of the kitchen was worth it.“Oi!”

Merlin picked up his pace again already cursing how late he was going to be, but he would be damned if he didn’t get there before Arthur wrote his own speech, because he  _ did not _ stay up just to see Arthur with his soddy written speech. So much for being even remotely on time.

The abundance of other servants who were passing made him weave back and forth, and he was certain he looked like a mad man. And because he’s a clumsy idiot who doesn’t pay enough attention to his surroundings half the time-he doesn’t see that he’s in the way of the also quickly walking servant-the one that was holding a large jug of red wine.

He rammed right into the man, shouting in surprise, and dropped Arthur’s shirt. As the servant ran away, he looked down at the blotchy red spot slowly growing on the tunic, and cursed to the triple goddess herself and back. A voice called out in front of him, and he startled back against it from behind the prat’s shirt. “You could try a bit of salt.” Lance must be back from his hunt. What opportune timing. If only he had been a few seconds earlier...

He stood up, glancing sadly at the shirt before back to Lance. “Arthur is going to kill me.”

“Let’s see.” Lancelot comes up next to him, peering at Arthur’s newly decorated tunic. His friend looks back up at him, smiling. “You’ve faced far worse, Merlin.” He moves past him and Merlin huffs. What great encouragement.

“But he needs it for tonight.”

Lancelot backs away from him. “I’m sure a man of your talents can think of something.” Merlin is then very tempted to flip Lancelot off. Right here. Right now. In this very corridor in front of everyone. He doesn’t know how he refrains. Maybe it’s lack of sleep. Too much effort and energy. Yeah, that’s it. Lance raises his eyebrows at Merlin, expectantly waiting for him to magic Arthur’s shirt away.

It was also the middle of the day and people were around. Not that anyone seemed to care. He glanced back at his friend. You know what? Screw it. He was too tired for this shit.

Merlin peers around to make sure that nobody is looking, ignoring the way Lancelot’s face quirks up into an expectant smile as he backs up towards what to Merlin guesses is the armory. “ _ Foredwin welm _ .” He feels the magic rush through him and into the shirt-watching the stain disappear.

He peers back again to make sure that no one was looking, before raising the shirt proudly up to Lancelot. Lance throws out his arms slightly and gives a full blown smirk back, sharing a secret hidden to all but a few, before leaving once again. At this, Merlin weaves his way out of the hallway once more, more mindful of the shirt and wine-bearing servants.

It was at this point that Merlin burst through the door, stumbling in and righting himself in a most dramatic fashion. As always. Because he could and it annoyed Arthur, so he was going to do it as much as humanly possible. 

This is when he finds out a most shocking revelation. One that will be written down in history and mused by poets. One that will change the course of the world forever, burned into Merlin’s memory for the rest of his days. Arthur Pendragon can actually _dress_ _himself_.

When the history books write this down, they will regard the shock and surprise that Merlin found himself in, with a great deal of humor and awe. “You’re dressed.”

Arthur huffs from his relaxed position against the front of his desk, lowering the piece of parchment in his hands before glaring at him and rolling his eyes. Then he turns around, and Merlin scratches everything he said about this being a great day in history. 

“Yes, Merlin. I’m not an idiot.” 

How is this man his best friend? He laughs quite loud and mockingly at seeing Arthur’s shirt tucked up and into his belt-showcasing his whole lower back.

And to think, he had been so proud.

“Are you sure about that?” Really, it couldn’t be  _ that _ hard for Arthur to dress himself. He  _ was _ a grown man. Wait. Take that back. Arthur was a child. Nevermind.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s just that-”

Merlin tries to visualize the problem to Arthur, although the prat isn’t paying nearly enough attention. “Merlin, I am trying to write a speech.”

Write a speech, his ass. Merlin didn’t spend all night working on one for Arthur to write his own. “Do you want help?” Arthur turned back down to the speech, starting to write more. Merlin restrained from giving him donkey ears again.

“No.” Of course he didn’t want help.

“You won’t want this then.” Merlin dropped Arthur’s shirt on his bed, holding up the speech that he spent so long working on. “I spent all night working on it.” He peered at Arthur, waiting for a reaction.

The man stops writing, raising an eyebrow before looking at the rolled up piece of parchment. He sets down the quill and raises his hand out expectantly. What did he say earlier? Oh, yeah. Arthur is an ungrateful ass. 

Setting the speech in Arthur’s hands, he steps back and lets him read over the paper, watching expectantly. Arthur sniffs before jumbling the speech up and handing it back to Merlin. “What do you think?”

“It needs a polish.”

Merlin looks back over at his friend before giving him what he hopes is a most sarcastic smile. “I’ll add it to the list.” He turns back around and starts picking Arthur’s clothes up from off the floor. He hears the tossing of another paper onto the floor, mostly likely Arthur’s written speech, before he hears the tap of the quill briefly on the desk.

“Merlin, there aren't many servants who get the chance to write the prince’s speech.” He’s right. But, Arthur’s also an idiot who can’t put on his own clothes properly. “Obviously it would be too much for you to say thank you.”

He stares back at his friend. Honestly. Like hell he was going to say thank you. With a pile of clothes now bundled up in his arms, he leaves to go do the prat’s laundry before helping with preparations for tonight.

He doesn’t miss the light laugh that echoed throughout the room as he closes the door behind him. 

* * *

The feast started early. Earlier than it was supposed to start, because Arthur is a prat who complains about Merlin being late but then doesn’t tell him when he’s making the feast an hour earlier, leaving Merlin in a panic. The knights thought it was funny to watch him scramble around, but then he glared at them and reminded them quite forcefully who makes the food when they’re on hunts and trips out of the castle. They were quiet after that.

So, the feast started early. But, the speech went well-Arthur can deliver Merlin’s words quite good if he does say so himself. That was a plus. Also, everyone gave a big round of applause and drank to it, so Merlin is pretty proud of himself in that respect.

The night was fairly easy-maybe Arthur did see how tired he was because he was very sparse about needing Merlin for things. By the time the feast had ended, Merlin was pushing his limit. His eyes had been steadily dropping over the night, and he didn’t think he would be able to make it much longer. Maybe he would be fine if he just closed his eyes for a few minutes... 

He was startled out of his semi-sleep by Arthur yelling. He scowled back at him in response.

Arthur beckoned him over from his spot, long after most had left the feast-save for the Round Table Knights and Guinevere-to where they were gathered around the table, playing a game of cards. “Come join us, Merlin! Relax a little.” Merlin snorted at that. If he  _ could _ relax then he would be sleeping in his nice, warm bed.

Gwen slapped Arthur’s arm gently, looking at Merlin with a sympathetic gaze. “If you’re too tired, Merlin, I’m sure Arthur wouldn't mind sending you to bed. Isn’t that right, Arthur?” She turned her gaze to him, who nodded in what he thought was a little bit of fear. Ah, Gwen was going to be a great queen.

Merlin blinked back, startled when all eyes turned to him in the room. Arthur gave him a challenging look.

He really wanted to play this game? Fine. Bring it on.

“No, I’m fine Gwen. Really.” He gave his brightest smile, kicking himself off of the wall, pitcher still in hand.

He moved over to where everyone else was gathered and looked to Arthur, who gestured to the seat next to Gwaine, graciously accepting the offered chair. “I’m dealing you in, Merls. My team is horrible at this game,” this gained indignant squawks from his teammates and abundant laughing that he promptly retaliated with some rather rude gestures from the other team, “and and you’re the only chance I’ve got left. Don’t ruin this for us.” There were a few laughs at the comment, and Merlin nodded in response to the question.

Merlin was not going to disappoint.

Needless to say that Team Awesome, as Gwaine had so kindly put it, swept Team Loser right off their assess. Merlin did have to admit that magic came into help when playing a game of cards-and from the suspicious looks he kept getting from Lance, he was pretty sure he knew what Merlin was doing as well. Still, Merlin was extremely happy to beat Arthur, and wasn’t going to let him forget it anytime soon.

Needless to say, the feast came to an end late. It was practically the stroke of midnight after all, and when Merlin gets himself around oh… he didn’t know… two hours of sleep, anytime after midday seems late. At least his friends were starting to get tired too, so now he wouldn’t be the only one complaining. 

“Okay, I’m heading off to bed. Merlin?” Arthur gestured to him and he nodded his acknowledgement, the others also slowing rising from the table and heading towards the door.

Gwen moved and put her hand on his shoulder, a comforting presence. ”I’ll help you out, Merlin.” He gave her a grateful smile, and he starts picking up the mess, Gwen grabbing the goblets. Briefly outside, he heard the bell sounding, signaling that it was midnight. 

But, then, something shifted. Merlin didn’t know what, didn’t know why, but something… just shifted.

Merlin paused, frowned. “Did you feel that?”

Gwen looks at him inquisitively, head tilted in confusion. “Feel what, Merlin?”

“I don’t know,” He shifted, peering around the room, “something just doesn’t feel right.”

Gwen moved to his side, fidgeting anxiously as she tried to find something that remained unseen. Her voice dropped to a whisper, a hint of fear in her words. “Is this another one of funny feelings?” 

Arthur had always made fun of him when he got “funny feelings”. He was always proven wrong when danger attacked them around the next corner. But Gwen, Gwen had never made fun of those moments where he would pause and frown, where he tilted his head in the direction of the unknown. Guinevere had always, beyond a doubt, trusted Merlin.

So, when he nodded in reply, Gwen gripped his hand and stood up straighter, hiding her fear behind a mask of calm. “We should-”

Every window in the room shatters. Gwen screams, Merlin jumps. 

Distantly he hears Gwen call out his name, feels her tug on his arm, and if he would’ve, could’ve looked, he would have seen the the concern marring her features. Heard her pleas for them _to_ _leave, to go, to find Arthur_. 

His magic swirled inside of him, off-kilter. Unbalanced. Inside out and upside down. The room slowed down and sped and slowed down again all around him, the sounds all around becoming muffled as if underwater. 

His whole body became unbearably numb with cold. A coldness that burned in him-colder than that of the harshest winter days, colder than the darkest of nights. It wrapped its’ grip around his heart and squeezed it painfully, and he sucked in a sharp breath at the feeling.

A harsh wind flew through the hall, making him shiver-it’s echoes against the stone like silent screams. It swirled around and through him, increasing in aggression. 

The wind felt like terror and death. Achingingly deep and soul crushing sadness. His magic screamed inside him, like a wounded animal. It was then that he felt that there was hope left in the world, he could never find hope again, he’d never be happy again. 

The wind felt like death. 

“Merlin?”

Then. Then the screams started. Screams that were not human-anything but human-searching for a way out of their rotten and decaying bodies-out of their graves and out of the otherworld where all the spirits went. Screams that got louder and louder and louder and Merlin couldn’t move and-

He thought he might have seen something move quickly in the corner of his eye, in front of his face, but then again, maybe not. And he was so cold and the screams got louder and the world became more muffled and he was cold, so very cold…

There she was. A women: pale and sad, eyes rimmed in red, tucked into a ragged black cloak, looking every inch the way that Merlin was feeling. She came in on the wind and screams-holding her staff up high. 

Merlin thinks she might be Death. 

Her eyes. They were filled with such sadness. So much sadness and pain and suffering that he didn’t think any being could have. And he was so cold, so very cold-

She spoke. She spoke deep from the hollows of the Earth, a deadly and ethereal and unnatural voice all at once.

“Emrys.” So cold.

“Emrys.” The screams were deafening.

“Emrys.”  _ Please make this stop…. _

“Merlin!”

The woman disappeared, and the world slammed back into focus. Merlin briefly noticed that he was surrounded by his friends, not just Gwen.  _ When did that happen? _ The coldness seeped up into him, digging its claws into his body-pulling his eyes down, down, down, and Merlin was just  _ so _ tired.

He was so cold.

The cold reached out its hand to Merlin. Reached out and tempted him and persuaded him and offered him rest. Wrapped around his magic. Why was it unsettled again? Merlin knew that something was wrong, that something was off with the world and the dead and the cold, but he was suddenly too tired to care.

The darkness stretched out before him, and Merlin fell into willingly. Then he knew no more.

* * *

Gwaine has seen many things in his travels throughout the kingdoms. Known many people, been with many people  _ with great and much intimacy _ , he might add, especially with Lorainne the baker’s daughter in that small town in Mercia with the oddly tasting mead-although Gwaine wasn’t complaining because it was mead and you can never complain about mead. 

He doesn’t very much remember that night all too well, but if he is going to die in service to the princely prince of prats or  _ even better _ the kingly king of princess, he hopes that it is after many years of great and  _ amazing sex _ with the likes of someone of that of the fair lady Lorainne-even if she did turn out to be quite ugly in the end.

What Gwaine  _ means _ to say is that he’s not losing tonight. He is going to wipe the princess right off his ass, like the time he got into a brawl at the Golden Boar with that fairly disgusting smelling bandit that tried to take all of Gwaine’s hard earned money. 

Well, okay. So maybe Gwaine had played that man like a well-taught and respectable minstrel playing the lute-and maybe he  _ had _ scammed the man of all his life’s earnings as a ugly, smelling bandit. 

Look, he was an ugly man with more scars than actual face, so Gwaine didn’t care  _ too _ much.

He wonders if Lorainne the ugly baker’s daughter and the rotten apple smelling, ugly scar-faced bandit know each other. He wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe there’s a whole secret underground ring of ugly people just waiting to take and attack unexpected and quite handsome people like himself.

He wouldn’t be surprised.

Anyways, the card game he’s playing right now is really not turning in his or Leon’s or Elyan’s favor. Look. He loves his friends, he really does. They’re quite honorable and noble men who have done more for Camelot in a year than most people do in their entire lives-and great fighters and extremely loyal and respectful and great people to play pranks on every once and awhile… 

But they’re absolutely horrible, terrible card players.

Especially Leon. Which makes losing very easy because they can’t play the game. Honestly, they’re worse at playing cards than Merlin is at lying. 

As a matter of fact, if Gwaine’s memory is correct-which it  _ always _ is-Merlin is quite brilliant at card games. The only time he  _ can _ lie.

No. Wait. This is brilliant. “We need Merlin.”

A few looked at him in confusion and he turned sad eyes to his teammates before looking back at Arthur. “Princess.” He hummed his acknowledgement, although Gwaine knew he wasn’t very well much paying attention because he was tuning Gwaine out like he always did.

Not that Gwaine blamed him because he did tend to spew a whole lot of bullshit-but, whatever. What matters at the moment is winning this game, and winning this game requires a certain best friend of Gwaine’s. 

Gwaine quite forcefully stomps his foot on Arthur’s and gets a burning glare in return. “Invite Merlin. Please.” The man snorted quite loudly at this, and shakes his head before turning back to the game.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“ _ No,  _ Gwaine.”

“ _ Yes _ , Arthur.”

In the corner of his eye he saw Gwen huff and put down her cards-taking in a long, deep breath before turning to look at the pair. The face she made reminded him of the one his mother used to make after he trampled through Old Man Billen’s flowerbed or returned those stolen apples to Old Man Billen after they magically disappeared, or that time that he accidentally sent Old Man Billen on fire. Okay. She might have been a little more angry that time, but still, the image was the same. A strong look of annoyance and disappointment coupled with a pinch of scariness that made anyone bow down before it.

Gwen was going to make a great queen. The signs were all there.

“Arthur Pendragon, invite Merlin over or so help me you will be sleeping on the floor for the next month.” Her gaze softened as she turned back to Merlin, who was trying his hardest not to fall asleep against that damned stone pillar he had been at all night, although he was doing a piss poor job of it. 

“You can’t do that! I’m Prince Regent and-”

Gwen’s sent him a withering look and Arthur abruptly shut up. “Look at him. Either let him go to sleep in a proper bed or invite him to sit down and play with us. Now.”

Arthur’s gaze slid to Merlin, and for a moment his eyes softened at the sight of his friend, turning back to a very angry and glaring Guinevere-the rest of the table watching by in amusement. 

Arthur huffed under his breath before turning towards Merlin, shouting at him. “Merlin, come join us! Relax a little.”

Merlin jolted out his spot, startled at the shouting. He blinked back over at Arthur, shaking the sleep out of his eyes. Again, Gwen’s eyes softened at her friend, following his tired movements.“If you’re too tired, Merlin, I’m sure Arthur wouldn't mind sending you to bed. Isn’t that right, Arthur?”

Look, Merlin may be tired. But he wasn’t going to back out of a chance to beat Arthur. Gwaine knew this all too well. Give Merlin the chance to go after Arthur, and he was going to take it. 

Merlin looked over Gwen, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’m fine, Gwen. Really.” Then he kicked himself off the wall, slowing moving towards the table, his eyes locked in a challenging stare with Arthur.

Score.

Arthur gestured to the chair right next to him, and Merlin responded by plopping down in said chair, setting down the wine pitcher with a distinctive ‘cling’ before looking at his friends once again.

Gwaine was, for all intents and purposes,  _ very _ excited to have Merlin on his team. That man could be as sly as a fox when it came down to it. He knew from experience. Like that one time at the Rising Sun when Arthur bet all his coins that Merlin couldn’t beat him at Hazard.

Of course, Merlin had brought dice for himself, refusing to use “the filthy prat’s rich man dice” and those had been weighted. Gwaine knew because he was there when Merlin had bought them. It was entertaining to watch princess lose all that money. Everyone had been impressed with his playing skills, but he remembered Merlin giving that mischievous grin as he collected all of Arthur’s coins. 

Also, Gwaine may have saw his eyes glow gold a few times.

Gwaine was entertained enough by that to sit on the sidelines and drink his mead, watching as his friend collected more and more coins throughout the night. Later, as everyone was leaving, Gwaine pulled him aside-watching that cunning glint still prominent in his eyes.

_ “Cheers to robbing Arthur blind, mate.” Merlin blinked at him in surprise before giving him a dramatic bow. “Although, you should be more careful when you use magic in front of the Prince Regent of Camelot. He might get a little prissy.” _

_ Merlin paused, a look of horror crossing his features. “I don’t-I-I mean-I didn’t-” _

_ Gwaine clapped him on the back, laughing at the stuttering mess his friend had become. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone, mate.” Merlin visibly relaxed at those words, although Gwaine could see the wariness in his eyes. _

_ “You won’t tell? If Arthur found out-I-I’m not ready to…” He trailed off, looking down at his hands dejectedly. _

_ Gwaine slung his arm around Merlin, the two walking towards the door. “I promise. Besides, if I tell Arthur, then how are we going to prank him? Imagine the possibilities, Merlin! Pink hair! Yellow teeth! Donkey ears because he’s an ass! We-” _

_ “Well actually-”  _

_ “Wait. The donkey ears actually happened?” Merlin’s grin stretched across his face. “You have to tell me the story!” _

_ Merlin told him the story, and he told him many others that night. Gwaine, not for the first time, was happy to have found a friend as great as Merlin.  _

He shuffled the cards before looking over at his friend. “I’m dealing you in, Merls. My team is horrible at this game.” Leon and Elyan gave him offended looks, although he could see that they knew he was right-and abundant laughing from the others, which he showed his pleasure with by flipping each one of them off. Well, except Gwen. She was too nice. Also a little scary. 

“You’re the only chance I’ve got left. Don’t ruin this for us.” 

Merlin nodded in a most serious way, cracking his knuckles dramatically.

He then dealt Merlin his hand, who stared down the other team, before looking back at his own. Leon looked over to Elyan, who nodded his approval, before turning back to Merlin. Then, that grin of his slowly rose to his face, and the game commenced.

Look, Gwaine had seen people get destroyed at cards. It happened. Gwaine made it happen. Gwaine made it happen so much that some very rich people now hated him and he was pretty sure he owned part of their land now. But Merlin. Oh, Merlin was playing Arthur like he never had before, and it was  _ so _ enjoyable to watch.

It also made him a bit more perky and happier, which seemed to improve everyone’s moods, although Gwaine could still see the lack of sleep in his eyes. Either way, they won without all that much effort, and since princess is a sore loser, he decided that it was then time to retire for the night.

Of course, Gwaine wouldn’t admit that he was also tired and thinking of going to bed, so he was happy to have someone else say it first. “Okay, I’m heading off to bed. Merlin?” He stood up, gesturing towards the door. Merlin sighed in relief, going to clean up the table. 

The man’s eyes softened just a bit at his friend, easy to miss if one wasn’t looking. Luckily, Gwaine was looking and he would tease Arthur relentlessly about this later were princess would undoubtedly deny he liked Merlin at all. He looked like he was on the verge of showing actual caring when Gwen spoke up.

“I’ll help you out.” Merlin gave her a grateful smile, starting to clear off the table. Gwen shuffled beside him, picking up the cards and stacking the plates.

He briefly heard the clinks of the metal and low murmuring of Gwen and Merlin echoing throughout the hall as he walked out.

Gwaine rushed to catch up with Arthur, swinging his arm over the other man’s shoulders, who glared and pushed him off. “So, how does it feel to lose, Princess? Merlin destroyed you.”

Arthur huffed and crossed his arms. “Merlin didn’t  _ destroy _ me. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure he was cheating the whole time.” He  _ was _ , but Gwaine wasn’t about to tell Arthur that.

“You’re only saying that because you lost, sire.” Percival grinned back at Arthur.

“Merlin did play quite well.”

“Lancelot!”

“Well he did, I’m sure that Percival and Gwaine would agree with me.” Both nodded in agreement. Leon and Elyan laughed behind them.

Arthur sputtered and then turned away from his teammates, cheeks blushing in embarrassment. Then, he seemed to recover, jabbing back at the others. “You may have beat me at this stupid game, but I still run training and we haven’t had an early morning in a  _ very _ long while.” The snickering and laughter stopped.

Gwaine scoffed. “Please, princess,” he ruffled the man’s hair in a very condescending and annoying fashion, which Arthur returned with a death glare, “you’re just being a sore loser because Merlin totally wiped your ass at that game and-” 

In the distance, a score of glass shatters.

“What the hell was that?”

Arthur had already unsheathed his sword, twisting towards the sound. “That sounded like it was coming from-”

Guinevere’s scream and Merlin’s surprised shout bounced off of the quiet halls. 

Arthur took off running, Gwaine hot on his heels and the others not far behind. Gwaine was  _ really _ hoping this was all a huge misunderstanding and that they could all get back to going to bed. But, true to Pendragon luck that he included himself and rest the rest of the knights in,  _ thank you very much _ , Gwaine highly doubted that everything was fine.

He only wished he wasn’t right.

When they reached the hall, the one they had left only a few mere minutes before, it was to a completely different scene. The glass on every window in the hall had shattered, shards littering the floor. In the center of the room was one Merlin and Gwen, although that’s not what worried him.

Gwaine shoved past Arthur and into the great hall-intending on finding the source of the problem so that they could fix it and he could sleep. Well, like he said, intended to. Because when he came into the hall once again is when he noticed that something was horribly wrong. “Merlin?”

His friend was frozen-pale as a sheet and staring off into space. The room seemed colder, sadder. Maybe that was just him, though. The whites of his knuckles could be seen from where he gripped tightly to the pitcher of wine. “I-I don’t know what’s wrong with him. One second were picking up and then the glass shattered he was pushing me out of the way the next heś just… frozen.” 

Frozen was right. It was if a frost had overcome the man, his eyes looking like frosted glass on a cold winter day. He was cold to the touch. No warmth. No light. Just cold and dark. Like a dead man. It was only when a small puff of breath cold be seen coming from Merlin that he knew his friend wasn truly dead. 

She put her hand to his forehead, moving back and Gwaine snapped his fingers in front of Merlin’s face, hoping for a response.

Merlin didn’t register any of it. His face was frozen in that of half fear and half shock. “He feels like ice. I’ve never felt anyone so cold.” Behind them, Arthur became more agitated, pacing back and forth.

_ Emrys… _

Gwaine whipped his head around at the sound. “Do you hear that?” Arthur nodded, drawing his sword. Lancelot glance a worried look at Merlin, before steeling himself and moving next to Arthur.

Gwaine would have to ask Lance about that later.

The voice had sounded like death and destruction and sadness beyond repair. Gwaine was familiar with such things, but a little voice told him that this was so much more, something that was out of their control. Leon and Percival stepped to the sides of Merlin, swords drawn, while Elyan and Arthur but stood in front of Gwen, himself caught between the two groups.

Then, Gwaine heard the clattering of the wine pitcher and the sharp, stuttering, sudden intake of breath. Merlin blinked at the group, utterly confused. Then, with about as much gracefulness as one would expect from Merlin, he dropped to the ground, shivers wracking his body. “Merlin!”

Gwaine looking at the shivers wracking Merlin’s body, the way his hands seemed to turn a little blue. He didn’t miss how the room seemed to get significantly warmer and the torches flared just a little bit.

And as he rushed to carry his friend to Gaius, the others trailing worryingly behind him, he didn’t miss the rushes of cool air, of how he was sure that he had seen the ghostly face of death flying past.

****  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Auribus Teneo Lupum (Latin): "Holding a wolf by it's ears"  
> *Basically, in a risky situation, it's equally dangerous to do nothing at all and something to resolve it
> 
> Foredwin Welm: Stain, vanish
> 
> Hope you liked it! Leave your comments down below!


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